


#Plotosus

by Mia Djojowasito (peppersasen)



Series: The Fifth Wall & B-Sides [3]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Franny and Zooey, Original Work
Genre: April Fool's Day, Catfished, Catfishing, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppersasen/pseuds/Mia%20Djojowasito
Summary: Michelle Kartowirjo, a Z-list Indonesian actress, gets catfished by a someone impersonating the English actor Thomas Coutellglass. When Michelle learns through social media that Thomas has become engaged to another woman, Michelle is sucked into a rabbit hole of illusion and perception, learning along the way how she was wrong for a man she never knew.Too bizarre to be a marketable premise. Based on a true story.





	#Plotosus

**Author's Note:**

> ◻️ NOTE: Seeing that the two other stories from "The Fifth Wall & Other Stories" ended with plot twists, I was worried that people might expect an epic one for "#Plotosus". So I just wanted to let you know that there will not be a plot-twist for this (I've already outlined everything for the 9 chapters from the very beginning, and only began writing after coming up with the ending that this story will end up with). The ending of this story is probably going to be however everyone would predict it might end, so please don't get high hopes for a plot-twist, because you will be disappointed. This will be my most boring story yet.
> 
> ◻️ SOUNDTRACK: https://itunes.apple.com/id/playlist/plotosus/pl.u-4JomXq9uMZx59k

> **“Die, bitch.”**
> 
> **Sender:** Anonymously2014
> 
> **Date:** Today

It took a couple of seconds for Michelle to register and process what she was reading in her chat box, it was not exactly the kind of message you’d expect to receive on opening night.

“Today” was November 13, 2015 and Michelle had just arrived at the apartment where she would temporarily live in during the run of the play she was in, and while she had mentally-prepared herself to hear from the critics that the theatre company had invited to press night a few evenings prior, she was not expecting—

 _What is this, even? They’re not threatening to kill me, technically speaking_ , she thought, trying to remain calm and sensible. It wasn’t _technically_ a death threat. But it certainly was still alarming.

Michelle checked the instant message’s time once again. It said 19:44 in her timezone, sent while she performed the first couple of scenes of “The Mousetrap” (which was really a play by Mike Folie entitled “Naked Mole Rats in the World of Darkness”, but Michelle affectionately nicknamed the first play she’d ever been cast in “The Mousetrap” for short in her personal notes and 2015 planner).

This was a dummy Tumblr account, as she could tell it was associated with an empty blog that appeared to have been set-up solely for this purpose (although Michelle couldn’t be sure what “ _this purpose_ ” was).

She knew it couldn’t be from another Jakartan actress—at least not any one of the other cast members. Michelle enjoyed that intoxicating backstage rush and assumed every other actress felt the same way and thought it more satisfying than leaving nasty messages to a person.

After all, it _was_ Tumblr IM. Although any actor in Jakarta who had heard rumours about her having some sort of relationship with the English actor Thomas Coutellglass probably _did_ secretly read her anonymous Tumblr blog without ever openly admitting to following her—everybody is just so _coy_ in this town; smiling their sleazy suggestive smiles, steering conversations packed with innuendo garnished with the pretence of familiarity with the world in which Thomas Coutellglass lived, but nobody had the balls to just honourably _ask_.

Michelle wished _somebody_ would just come up to her and outright bluntly ask, “hey, I heard you know Thomas Coutellglass personally, is it true?” yet they never did. They opted disingenuity, as though they’d already planned out how to act when the time of revelation came, they would act out feigned shock, “oh, _quelle surprise_! _Mais, mais_ I had no idea, my dear old friend little Michelle who _m_ I’ve always given a shit about since before I knew she knew an A-list English actor” and begin using her as an Instagram prop for their own benefit. As if Michelle didn’t have enough trust issues to begin with.

*****

It was two or three years in since she had seriously begun pursuing acting again in 2010, when Michelle received a Direct Message from a man on her anonymous Twitter account one day in 2013, perhaps late 2012. She had tweeted about auditioning but hadn’t found the courage to start a social media presence with her stagename, her French given name and her maternal grandmother’s Sanskrit maiden name, Kartowirjo, since her real surname, Djojowasito, was so common that it confused the Google search results.

But this man didn’t care what her real name was. When wasn’t calling her Wabbit, he’d call her his Piglet. At first, he didn’t tell her his name either. He just sent her platonic moral support, a little “good luck with the audition” here, a “break a leg” there. Which then developed to, “you’re my escape from fame”, “we should move in together so we can make our secret little world real.”

In the beginning, he never revealed his identity until a little later, drop of a hint here and there. And eventually when she had received enough clues that the actor she was speaking with might be Thomas Coutellglass, she signed-up for a daily Google Alert for everything related to the keywords “Thomas Coutellglass” and sure enough, everything Thomas Coutellglass would say in recent interviews or simply _do_ matched with everything and synced with everything her pen pal said to her in private.

There were never questions with Thomas, just factual statements.

June 19, 2013 was their “anniversary” because Michelle messaged him that she had just woke-up from a dream about him. It was the first time he appeared in her dreams, he replied:

> SO WE’RE AN ITEM NOW.

Michelle didn’t agree to it, but she said nothing, her silence agreed for her. It just happened, Thomas made them an item and she didn’t object to it, either. And then it became clear, without saying, that she was Thomas Coutellglass’ secret girlfriend.

> **To:** Thomas Patrick Barclay Coutellglass <TPBCoutellglass@gmail.com>
> 
> **From:** Cherry Peppersauces <PigletWabbit76@gmail.com>
> 
> **Subject:** The Purple Dream
> 
> **Date:** Tue, Apr 1, 2014, 09:59 AM
> 
> Tommy, I’m not sure why I feel compelled to tell you this because I woke-up form this weird dream maybe between November 2–3 in 2013. But I cant seem to get it out of my head from some reason?
> 
> Anyway, here’s what I wrote on my Path.com account under the post about the film “The Lady” that I saw at l’IFI, in case you never read that one? But if you did, just ignore this. I’m copy/pasting this for you:
> 
> anyway, i had a weird dream that i was watching a concert. front-row seats. lovely. and for some reason Thomas Coutellglass was all over the stage during the concert, i think it was his friend’s or something. anyway, after the concert, where at the steps outside, and i spot his jeans and they’re purple with the dark purple glitter (like OPI Bond Girl in “Vesper”, but just ONE thin layer of it, so it’s light and still purple). and since i was wearing a purple dress/skirt, i said, “[one of your character’s names—you know which one, that one], i think your jeans and my skirt should take a picture!” and he agrees to it. and then, this pregnant woman in a purple maternity dress walk by and i say, “hey, why don’t you take a picture with is too? we’re taking a purple picture!” and she declines because she’s preggers and if she’s pregnant she can’t be having her picture taken with us. and then i was kind of like, “oh, i’m sorry then” to be polite. but it didn’t bother me too much because the truth us, i wanted [your character’s name again, the one] to myself anyway. *shrugs* then i woke up and got ready for class. @.@ [Lemon Emoji]
> 
> What could it mean, Tommy? (Please give me a serious answer, I know it’s just about to be/just started April Fool’s Day in your timezone, but I need a serious answer—I don’t want an April Fool’s answer! I’m terribly worried.)
> 
> I say ‘anyway’ way too much, don’t I? do you happen to have any friends who are rock stars? I have a very bad feeling about this Tommy. IDK why. :<
> 
> Please take care. =3
> 
> Love,
> 
> -Mister’s Wittle Wabbit in the Big Durian
> 
> **PS:** It’s duck season.

Everything just happened. He took control of everything and everything so simple, which Michelle found comforting. There were rarely ever any questions. He never asked any, Thomas never officially proposed and asked Michelle, “yes or no, will you marry me?” He just went straight to, “what would our wedding ideally look like?”

And so, they began planning their wedding. On September 7 in his timezone and September 8 in hers in 2014. How was it possible then that just less than two full months later there was an engagement announcement in a newspaper in England? He was to marry some random woman named Soraya Callas-Viner who seemingly just _came out of nowhere_? None of it made any sense whatsoever. Something had gone terribly wrong.

She’d only just set-up MichelleKartowirjo.com in October 2014 because she wanted to make him proud, she wanted him to know she was serious about acting.

That same month, her Google Alert sent her the daily emails about her overseas boyfriend as scheduled on 5:55 PM (what an interesting perk of being in a long-distance relationship with someone famous: you had Google Alerts to keep yourself updated).

> **Google Alerts**
> 
> **Thomas Coutellglass**
> 
> Daily update ⋅ October 31, 2014
> 
> **NEWS**
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Thomas Coutellglass Spotted Out for Dinner with Soraya Callas-Viner**
> 
> The Maily Telegraph
> 
> Thomas Coutellglass seen out having dinner with Soraya Callas-Viner in London. The couple arrived separately and left separately.

 _Is he cheating on me?_ Michelle thought fearfully. _Why are they being referred to ‘a couple’?!_ Panic-stricken, she clicked on the link. The photos began loading and she scrolled down to see more the photos. A spot inside her chest began hurting dully. There was in fact another woman in photos. _Well, if he’s in a relationship with me, then wouldn’t he be angry at the paparazzi for catching him in the act while cheating on me? Why isn’t he scowling at the paparazzi, yelling “piss off” or “bigger off” or whatever angry British people do?_ He certainly didn’t appear to act like a guilty man. And therefore, Michelle reasoned, he was not guilty of cheating on Michelle.

Despite having come to the logical conclusion that this Soraya person was _perhaps_ just a friend and, knowing Thomas, he would’ve flipped at the paparazzi if he knew they took photos that would’ve upset Michelle, she felt a little upset. As she lay on her back, something—something that came from an emotional rather than a logical place—compelled her body to physically cry. Tears had melted some of the vitamin C eye-cream on her eyelids and under-eyes, melding with her tears, getting into her eyes. _Oh my God_ , they stung. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the stinging.

 _Not perhaps, but certainly she’s just a friend_ , Michell reasoned some more. _And who finds out her fiancé’s cheating on her through paparazzi photos anyway? Oh, why am I crying? It must be that time of month_ , she figured without bothering to check the calendar on her menstrual app. _We did just plan our wedding._ She wiped her tears, sat-up, and as if nothing had happened, began flipping through tasteful images in the glossy pages of a bridal magazine she’d just bought at the gourmet supermarket downstairs.

*

Michelle never asked Thomas who Soraya was, she didn’t want to be _that_ woman. The kind who asks, “who is she?” Soraya was probably just a future castmate. Michelle is an actress too, she understood castmates need to hangout outside of work to bond. _I get it._ This was her first real adult relationship and Michelle didn’t want to screw it up. She intended to conduct herself maturely, and grown-up women don’t get jealous.

Afterall, Thomas was still responding to _her_ emails about _their_ wedding plans. He seemed the type who let Michelle choose whatever she wanted. She wanted a small, private, intimate party—perhaps just a quick legal thing with no party at all. But she wanted a dress, nonetheless. He didn’t seem to mind. Just as he didn’t mind when Michelle asked him to take their time.

> **@MichelleKartowirjo:** Give me time to have five roles first. And then we can go public as a couple. Okay?
> 
> **@TPBCoutellglass:** Okay, fair enough, Piglet. Deal.

She had made an agreement with Thomas that he would allow their relationship to remain a secret and he would wait for her to make a name for herself independently. She loved him, but she still didn’t want to be primarily known for just being _with_ him.

Michelle couldn’t even remember, in hindsight, how she learned about the shocking engagement announcement. Google Alert again? Twitter? It didn’t matter how now. That shock engagement announcement with his initials misspelled appeared on an English newspaper at Michelle’s favourite time of year in 2014.

Someone on Twitter who had never heard of this Soraya Callas-Viner suggested that the bride-to-be “Soraya” must be the name of some crazy obsessed stalker who’d submitted her imaginary “engagement” announcement one-sidedly. Some expressed outraged that such a reputable publication in the UK would allow such a thing without double-checking with Thomas or “his people” first. But Michelle knew that wasn’t true, she recognised Soraya as the woman in the October Google Alert. Michelle was certain it must’ve been a prank to pressure her, force her hand to marry him sooner as he didn’t want Michelle to make him wait.

 _Surely it must’ve been a prank?_ Michelle thought. Otherwise, why would his middle name be misspelled? Any _real_ fiancée of Thomas’ placing an announcement on his behalf would’ve submitted his _correct_ name as “Thomas P.B. Coutellglass” and not “Thomas B. Coutellglass”, right? _The misspelling of his name must be a clue. It must be that little wink-wink telling me that this wasn’t submitted by him! He couldn’t really be marrying woman who barely knew her fiancé’s correct name?_

> **To:** Thomas Patrick Barclay Coutellglass <TPBCoutellglass@gmail.com>
> 
> **From:** Cherry Peppersauces <PigletWabbit76@gmail.com>
> 
> **Subject:** FW: Google Alert - Thomas Coutellglass
> 
> **Date:** Wed, Nov 5, 2014, 3:33 PM
> 
> THOMMY EXPLAIN WHAT IS THIS?!
> 
> please tell this isn’t true? if you’re trying to twist my arm, we’ve discussed this. if this is a prank, it’s not funny. i’m cruying AND IT’S NOT FUNNY!!!!!
> 
> stop it.

Thomas seemed to have nothing to say to that. In fact, he never said anything ever again. He’d ghosted her.

The following days were filled with anxiety and obsessive scrolling on Twitter, on Tumblr, everywhere. And thankfully his fans on Tumblr noticed that something was clearly off too!

Her favourite time of year had become a blur.

*****

And now, that favourite time of year upon her again, a year later, and Thomas is married to that woman and Michelle felt like a fool, but she knew she couldn’t just let it go. What about that misspelled engagement announcement? If Soraya and Thomas were a real couple, none of that would’ve happened! _Something isn’t right_ , Michelle was determined to get to the bottom of this; she would seek the truth, find it, expose it. And then everything would be back to normal again.

Michelle scanned her surroundings—all she knew was sitting in one of her parents’ vacant downtown apartments—she couldn’t remember which one, as the anxiety overtook her. A few seconds later figured out in which part of the city she was in again, it must be the one near the play’s venue in central Jakarta. She suddenly remembered this apartment complex has more lenient security. Only four layers of security (front gate, doorman, key card to the lift entrance, free cardless lift that takes you to any floor you fancy, and finally her unit’s door—she wasn’t sure if the parking area was patrolled).

Michelle did some maths in her head. That’s at least one or two steps short of the security layers at the apartment at her parents’ apartment at Jakarta’s Embassy’s strip, she calculated.

She got up and went to the door to check if it had been properly locked once again before she cleaned her stage makeup and hopped into the bathroom for a warm shower and went to bed.

*

The following morning, a Saturday, Michelle had to be in at the venue early. It was a double day, a day for an evening show and a matinée. It was only just the second day of her first play, and she wasn’t sure whether doing anything differently with her morning routine would make any difference at all to her performance, so she went on autopilot and went through the morning as if it were any other morning—barring some projection exercises after brushing her teeth and her morning shower, then getting her hair washed and ironed by a professional at the hairdressers’ nearby the venue.

Starting with black coffee (she never could take food that early in the morning) and the world wide web. First, she checked her usual apps, her usual sites, her emails and push notifications, blogs she frequents, and lastly individual Tumblr blogs.

She’d found some fun esoteric Tumblr blogs about English actors. Most of the blogs consisted of new photos of the actors, recent theatre reviews, naughty memes, occasional personal life gossip—along with people expressing intense hate the girlfriends or wives of these actors, sneaky photos contributed by fans who’s bumped into the actors on the street or met them at conventions. But Michelle was here for something else. She wanted to know why her fiancé had left her to marry somebody else. Many dismissed these bloggers, labelling them “conspiracy theorists” and “tinfoil-hatters”, but Michelle knew better. She was heartbroken and she _knew for a fact_ that there was more to it than a bunch of jealous fangirls unable to accept the reality that their favourite actor had just gotten married.

Michelle had never met any of these English actors herself, so her contributions were mostly silly facetious comments poking fun at the actors (they did take their craft and their precious selves awfully seriously). She thought she blended in quite well as just another random fangirl. She had become a regular on the blogs, using the handle “CNY Anon”, a reference to her first post, which was about Chinese New Year. She particularly enjoyed the snark. She _lived_ for the snark. But she could only laugh when that snark was directed at Thomas’ contemporaries. None of this was funny to Michelle.

She had decided against looking at updates on blogs dedicated to Thomas Coutellglass in case there were new photos of Thomas and Soraya PDA-ing on some red carpet somewhere (looking at those hurt—and when Thomas with his dead-eyes insisted to a reported how much he loved Soraya, it hurt even more). Something distracting like that might hurt her performances today.

Bad idea, she knew, but she caved. Her favourite Tumblr fanblogs, Coutellastro, was loading when her own handle, CNY Anon, appeared on the screen, triggering a skip of her heartbeat (as seeing her name anywhere always did). It was in the Q&A’s section. Initially, she assumed perhaps somebody wanted a clarification for something she had posted, but upon inspection, the words written were not kind nor were they friendly:

> **November 14, 2015 | Anonymous asked:**
> 
> Uhm. I just went to the CNY Anon blog and all I see is The Little Mermaid stuff? I saw her mentioned by a nonny on that “London Tea Time” Tumblr too, but I don’t see what’s wrong with her?
> 
> **Coutellastro Admin answered:**
> 
> I haven’t been to that “London Tea Time” blog in a while. I don’t know, it’s been crazy busy at my work lately.
> 
> * * *
> 
> **November 14, 2015 | Anonymous asked:**
> 
> CNY Anon is a racist who hates black people. She always talks about herself as this victim mode. Just go check out her blog #PP2015 and it’s sickening.

_What on Earth? I never even talk about people of African descent because I’m too busy with all the issues that come with being Asian. I can’t even figure out Asian-Americans, why should I butt in about an ethnic group with an even more complex history than—_

She saw another one as she scrolled further down the blog, this one said:

> **November 14, 2015 | Anonymous asked:**
> 
> “Who’s CNY Anon?”
> 
> **Coutellastro Admin answered:**
> 
> She is a crazy nutjob who’s OBSESSED in Thomas Coutellglass. She’s delusional.

Michelle hadn’t planned on visiting the “London Tea Time” blog that morning—she wasn’t a regular, but she went to see what was said:

> **November 14, 2015 | Anonymous asked:**
> 
> “Hey Countess Toby, have you ever heard of PP2015? She’s crazy and unhinged.”
> 
> **Countess Town-Bicycle answered:**
> 
> Who? Never heard of her, Nonny. Explain?

They were a far cry from the messages she’d get from Thomas himself in November 2013.

Little did she know that in the following year, she, CNY Anon, would become public enemy #1 in the fandom’s spiritual sub-group. It was so confusing, Michelle couldn’t trace or pin-point where the public opinion came from, it felt like the accusations came out of nowhere. Just as Soraya came out of nowhere.

Even the lady who ran the Coutellastro fan blog had an opinion about Michelle—she had a standard answer for questions regarding “who CNY Anon is?” and the answer to that was that CNY anon was either simply a nutcase or delusional, sometimes peppered with commentary about how “obsessed” in Thomas she was, never with clear examples of exactly how that obsession manifested, but it had been accepted. She wondered if someone was talking trash about her to the blog owners and admins in private chats.

 _Who would do this?_ She scanned the blog, all of the comments were published by the approximately four, five, or six hours ago. When Michelle was asleep. Jakartan sleeping hours. Whoever is behind this can’t be anywhere near. She knew the person was likely in a different timezone and not somewhere they could physically harm her. Despite this, suddenly, Michelle began to panic.

Aimless, not knowing where to begin, the first thing she went to check for was where in the world Thomas Coutellglass, the ex-boyfriend she had never met, was. She frantically Googled his name—misspelling it in the process. Corrected by Google. A click of “Google News” tab later, Michelle learns that Thomas is currently in Kathmandu, Nepal. Filming something. And before her compulsive fingers went on to Google what timezone that was in and how many hours apart they were today, her brain caught up with her jittery fingers to remind them that it was a pointless thing to try and find out. Useless piece of information.

The past 12 months had been coloured by that aimlessness, confusion, misleading clues, irrelevant information. The not knowing where to look or where to start, it drove her mad.

And as if the nerves she got through being in her first play with a paying audience wasn’t enough, it was the first time something like that ever happened to Michelle in _English_ on an internationally-visited blog (as opposed to the local bullying she used to get in high school for befriending a 12th grader who apparently had a girlfriend in boarding school). She felt stripped and vulnerable, even if every Thomas Coutellglass fan who hated CNY Anon didn’t know her real name or who she was or what she looked like.

_Why isn’t Thomas helping? Does he really think I’m so worthless? Aren’t his people watching over me?_

Michelle wasn’t sure how to deal with this. She’d always known that she was more high-strung and prone to anxiety and worry than the average person and having become accustomed to people mostly ignore her throughout her adult life, simply having someone favourite her tweet or a stranger reply to her YouTube videos was enough to shake her up a little. But this was something else. There were no standards on how terrified one was allowed to feel in situation like this, but she knew the uncontrollable trembles of her hands and the hard, thumping pounding in her chest, and the sense of urgency to solve this unsolvable _illusion_ was an overreaction. After all, this was something on the Internet, not in the real world.

 _This is my first_ , she thought. A first experience with “the public” since she had begun acting. She felt lightheaded and weak. She knew it was just a handful of online comments, but she felt so miserable, and they rattled her as if this were some full-blown scandal and a real-life PR disaster.

Not only that, the comments were seemingly designed to throw her off on her big day. Targeted and planned for this specific date instead of some random person just saying she sucked at acting or called her ugly. Somebody out there was _watching_ her, and now they’re seeing her _crumble_.

As she slumped down the sofa, suddenly she felt _so alone_ in this.

_How did it all lead to this?_

None of it made sense.

*

_Focus, focus, focus. You have a matinée and evening show day._

She got up to get ready. She wouldn’t let whoever planted these lies about her throw her off. Not today. This was going to be her first stage role. She had to make this work. She still needed to have her five roles to go public with Thomas and then she would try to find out the truth, why he had gotten engaged to someone else only a month after they had begun planning their wedding.

The hairdresser didn’t ask any more questions as he ironed her thick hair, probably because it was a lot of work for any hairdresser. The only thing she really caught was his complimenting her hair’s lush thickness. She thanked him.

As usual, she tipped the hairdresser extra for not asking any personal questions. Even if this time she thought he probably hadn’t asked anymore questions because he’d notice she seemed distracted when she answered the one question he did with a mumble before blankly staring at her script despite being off-book. She just carried the script around as it felt comforting to have it with her.

Michelle’s extreme reaction to Thomas’ engagement and shotgun wedding had raised eyebrows within certain circles, people began to talk, and the “History Rumour”—as she liked to call her predicament—was born.

Nobody who thought they were in-the-know knew exactly what history Michelle might’ve had with Thomas Coutellglass, how they’d met or what kind of relationship they had. But Michelle’s reactions were far too real for a regular upset-that-her-idol-had-gotten-married fangirl, she appeared more like a real-world ex, and the town’s people had made up their mind about her supposed relationship with Thomas Coutellglass. Michelle played her role as a woman scorned a little _too_ convincingly.

Fortunately for Michelle, she was only a niche English-speaking actress as opposed to a mainstream actress. She wasn’t famous enough for any rumours surrounding her to make the news, and thankfully they remained unknown outside those circles. The hairdresser probably had no idea he’d just straightened the hair of Thomas Coutellglass’ ex-fiancée.

The air conditioner blew in her face as she entered the venue.

“I love it when things get interesting,” Sladre, one of Michelle’s female castmates, said to a man—with a sly smile and slight knowing roll in her eyes—as Michelle entered the backstage area. Within earshot, right in front of her nose. As if Sladre _wanted_ Michelle to notice her say it, and the man just a dummy Sladre used for demonstrative purposes. He looked a combination of having a slight idea what she was referring to, but also unsure as to exactly what and a generally puzzled.

Michelle knew right away what that meant.

They _knew_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ◻️ Michelle (The Beatles)  
> ◻️ Rock On (David Essex)  
> ◻️ Love Won't Wait (Gary Barlow)  
> ◻️ Last Christmas (Wham!)  
> ◻️ Waves (Mr. Probz)  
> ◻️ You Oughta Know (Scala & Kolancy Brothers)


End file.
